Call Me Marvolo
by Liz Skywalker
Summary: Tom Marvolo Riddle is just a regular boy who goes to Hogwarts. Yeah, right, sure. Tell me another one while you're at it. This is Tom's story.


Title: Call Me Marvolo  
  
  
Author: Liz Skywalker  
  
  
Author Stats: See bio  
  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Tom. Don't I wish.  
  
  
Summery: Tom Riddle is an orphan who goes to Hogwarts. Here's his story.  
  
  
  
  
It was the 20th of July and Tom Riddle read over the passages of the   
letter for the millionth time. He knew the entire letter by heart but he wanted   
to make sure that it was real and it was true. He needed to reassure himself   
that this was the day he would get his letter.  
  
  
Tom Riddle owned only two things: this letter, and the book that came with   
it. Even the clothes on his back belonged to the orphanage. It was because of   
the letter that Tom knew who he was. Before she died, his mother had taken the   
time to write out everything Tom would ever need to know about himself and his   
heritage. It had taken her the first year of her son's life to write down   
everything she thought he would need to know. But in case she had forgotten   
something, Tom's mother had included a small encyclopedia. All Tom had to do was   
write his question into the book and the answer would surface. Tom's mother had   
also placed an enchantment on the letter that if it was even confiscated, it   
would find its way back to him. She had also placed a Hiding Charm on it so that   
Tom would be the only one able to read it or destroy it. Anyone else would just   
see a piece of paper with Tom's name and vital statistics on it.  
  
  
And so Tom knew that the Hogwarts letter would come by owl on the 20th of   
July in his 11th year. So Tom was not surprised to see the owl tapping on the   
window of the boy's dormitory in the early morning. He opened the window   
carefully and took the letter. He made sure that the window didn't scratch when   
it closed and then took the letter over to his bed. It was Sunday morning and   
Mr. Pikeman would not come in until after he came back from church around noon.   
Of course, until then there would be no food, but the orphanage boys didn't care   
for that. They enjoyed the chance to sleep late. Ordinarily Tom would have   
gladly joined them but he had been counting down the days for too long until   
July 20th. He opened the letter eagerly.  
  
  
"Dear Mr. Riddle," it read. Tom scanned it eagerly. He would have to send   
back an answer by Muggle means. Tom scowled. The post office was a good two   
miles from the orphanage. At his first chance he was going to have to buy an   
owl. The letter was signed 'Albus Dumbledore'. Tom recalled the name from the   
letter. Apparently, he had been a teacher at Hogwarts when his mother was in her   
7th year. Tom looked over the supplies list. It was nothing that his mother's   
letter hadn't told him. Tom thanked whatever god there was for the umpteenth   
time that his mother had written it. He would have been lost without it when his   
powers had started to emerge.   
  
  
They had begun to emerge when he was six or so. He had read the letter by   
then so he knew what to expect. Tom originally hadn't been sure that what the   
letter said was true when he was six but since he had been talking to snakes   
since before he could remember, he knew that at least part of it was true.  
  
  
Tom liked to test his memory whenever he was alone. He would recite things   
from poets or authors he liked. But whenever he was sure that there was no one   
who could hear him, Tom always recited his mother's letter. "Dearest Tom," he   
began in a whisper. "I am very sorry, more than you will ever know, that I   
cannot live to tell you this in person. But since I cannot, I have written down   
everything you should know about yourself and where you came from. I will start   
with me. I am Ursula Gwinn. Your father's name is Thomas Riddle. I have no idea   
if he is still alive when you are reading this letter. I hope he is. He's a   
sweet man and was wholly unprepared to find out that he was married to a witch.   
Later in this letter, I'll give you instructions on how to contact him in the   
event of an emergency.  
  
  
"I will begin at the beginning. You are a wizard, Tom. Yes, magic does   
exist. You're considered a half-blood. Your mother, myself, was a witch from a   
respected pureblood family and your father was a Muggle, a non-magic person.   
Magic has been around for some time. We don't know who the first witch or wizard   
was but it doesn't really matter. Around a thousand years ago or more, two   
witches and two wizards got together to establish Hogwarts School of Witchcraft   
and Wizardry. You are descended straight from Salazar Slytherin himself, the   
most powerful of the founders." Tom stopped to catch his breath and then sucked   
it in as Edmond Powders mumbled in his sleep and rolled over. Thankfully,   
Powders stayed asleep. "You share his special power, the ability to speak to   
snakes. The language is called 'Parseltongue' and one who speaks Parseltongue is   
referred to as a 'Parselmouth'. Hide your ability, Tom. Wizards consider   
Parselmouths evil. Don't think that you are evil, Tom. Being a Parselmouth is a   
rare gift and snakes make very good friends, or so I've been told." Tom paused.   
"They do, Mum. They really do." Tom's cobra woke itself up and wound itself   
around his arm. Tom also had a python, but he was sickly and would die soon. Tom   
kept them in a box under his bed and only took them out when no one else could   
see. He had taken his mother's advice to heart. "As I'm writing this, you're   
talking to your stuffed snake that I bought for you a few days ago. I wish I   
could understand what you're saying to it. You don't seem to realize yet that   
you're speaking a foreign language. When you get older, you'll be able to speak   
Parseltongue at any time without having to look at the snake first. That ability   
may come in handy someday."  
  
  
"Who're you talking to, Riddle?" Edmond Powders raised himself onto one   
arm and wiped his matted dirty-blonde hair from his eyes.  
  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know. Go back to sleep, Powders." Tom stuffed the   
letter down his shirt to hide it.  
  
  
"I don't think so." Too late, Powders had spotted it. "Oh, you got a   
letter! But there's no post on Sunday. Have you been hording, Riddle? Give it   
here."  
  
  
"No." Tom smiled and pulled his sleeve down over his cobra. Thankfully,   
that arm was away from Powders. Pets weren't allowed in the orphanage and   
Powders was known as a snitch.  
  
  
"I'll tell Eric," Powders threatened.  
  
  
"Tell Ernie for all I care." Tom retorted. He gave a mock yawn. "I'm going   
back to sleep." He crawled under his flimsy cotton blanket and rearranged the   
letters so that they wouldn't fall out of his shirt. Tom had taught himself to   
sew and had sewn pockets in his shirt, it functioned both as a daily and bed   
shirt, so that he could carry around his letter and encyclopedia with him   
wherever he went. Nothing was safe if you left it unattended. Thankfully, Seth   
and Saint could look out for themselves. "You all right, Seth?"  
  
  
"Yes." The cobra hissed at him and unwound itself slightly from Tom's arm.   
"Shall I go back to the box?"  
  
  
"There's no reason for you to. You can stay here if you like."  
Seth's head nuzzled the crook of Tom's left arm. "I like." He said   
sleepily. Tom laughed quietly.   
  
  
"You can stay. But tell me if I start hurting you. I don't want to roll   
over on top of you by accident." When Tom was younger, he had killed a garden   
snake that way by smoldering it to death. He had been six or seven at the time   
and had cried for days because of it. Two months after that, he had found, or   
rather, Saint had found his way to Tom. "How's Saint doing?"  
  
  
"Not well. He says to take him to Diagon Alley with you when you go. He   
has some family there and wants to see them again."  
  
  
"I can do that. Tell him I will do that." Tom promised. And then he slept.  
  
  
  
  
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